World Chess Championship 2012.

Viswanathan Anand retains the world chess championship title once again. After what seemed like a rather uneventful 12 regulation games(only 2 decisive results), the players headed into a 1-day rapid/blitz, and if needed, 1-game sudden-death blitz playoff. Fortunately for Vishy, he managed to put Boris away after only 4 rapid games to retain the title after winning game 2 of the tiebreaks and drawing the other three games. Congrats Vish.

Contrary to the opinions of many, myself included at first, as well as Canada's own GM Kevin Spraggett, the players did not intentionally "phone in" the games or make peace unnecessarily as the high number of short draws might indicate. Accusations ran the gauntlet from the games being purposefully dull to the players willingly making draws to spite the organizers--this is simply not the case. Both Vishy and Boris know each other pretty well and have a good feel for how the other plays chess, approaches the game, and prepares. As a result, they have enormous respect for one another and agreed to draws in positions that most amateurs, even strong ones, were puzzled if not annoyed by. But for players of exceptional strength in all phases of the game, agreeing to draws in the positions they did were mostly motivated by an understanding and respect for the fact that the result would not be in doubt. Granted, in some cases the players agreed to draws in positions that still had play in them, but modern professional chess seems to have undergone a paradigm shift from a mindset of fighting, to meticulous and highly prepared debates, wherein this case, neither player seemed to want to offend the other without very good reason. The level of pre-game preparation was simply astounding on the part of both combatants, and it became clear quite early in the match that neither player wanted to take what they called "unnecessary risk". This meant choosing opening variations that most computers would deem "correct", but unfortunately for us perhaps, it meant seeing games of very little real excitement. This is simply top-class modern chess in a nutshell. Neither player really wanted to "go for it" and instead wanted to play the absolute best chess that was possible but regrettably, this doesn't make for good entertainment. 

Perhaps the most principled reason why we like watching sports, and let it stand that chess be considered a sport for a moment, is that we like watching battles. We want conflict--blood sweat and tears. This is especially the case for pro sport playoffs, where we know a team is going to walk away disappointed, and given that the structure of most sports don't allow for ties or some kind of split, save for boxing, chess, soccer and maybe a few others, a decisive result is guaranteed thereby giving the fans at least some modest immediate satisfaction. But in chess, a game of patience, stamina, and perhaps little luck compared to other sports, we as fans often feel cheated when the players seem to not be giving it their absolute best and one team isn't bloodied. Tough, chess isn't Hockey--Chess isn't marketed and promoted in that way. Sure you could change the rules so that draw offers either can't be made, or made before a certain number of moves etc, you could make all sorts of changes to try and "Americanize" it which I probably wouldn't have a problem with, but this years match had no such thing. So I can't really fault the players for simply adopting an approach that they felt would most maximize their chance of winning chess' highest prize, I wouldn't dare. 

This morning I watched the live broadcast as well as the post-game press conference and came to realize that championship chess is simply not what it was even 10 years ago. Computers(chess engines, databases, online instruction/training tools etc) as well as having entire teams to support players, have changed the pro chess landscape dramatically, so much so that I can't even really imagine what playing and studying chess would have been like 25 years ago. In some ways perhaps more exciting in the fact that amateurs could open up the latest MCO and find the latest trap in an opening that he could spring on an unsuspecting clubber, and have it work on perhaps more than one occasion, but the rate at which information spreads nowadays, stings like that rarely happen twice. Everyone will go home, pop open their fritz/chessbase/rybka whatever and immediately find out what the best reply was to their moronic play, and hopefully remember it for just long enough to make the offender toss it. 

We seem to want to leave every last word to the machine, and in doing so, have lost a part of what used to make chess so engrossing, the discovery- and in this match, the blood and the hunger. 

Burdens.

I recently played in the Calgary International Chess Classic due to a last-minute dropout. I managed to score 3/7 (I wasn't needed as a sub for rounds 3 and 4), and was more or less satisfied with my play. Being the lowest rated competitor in the event, as well as a sub for both the top and reserve sections, I had some reservations about setting particular goals or expectations. My goal--don't get zero.

After round 3, I was faffing about and decided to show my piss-poor effort against IM Eric Hansen in round 1 to a few of the players hanging around the playing area. After showing the players some of the variations that Eric had shown me in the post-mortem, it became apparent that, like so many other games in King's Indian defence, if black doesn't play f5 he should get whacked. Adding in my usual snarky comments, GM Anton Kovalyov picked up on my lack of confidence and said "Why do you give them(masters) respect? They don't deserve respect." And later, "I get bad positions all the time, just fight and see what happens."

I guess something about his words struck a chord with me. I was called back into the International for round 5 after Mr. Shirazi chose to drop out and played out the rest of the tournament not knowing if another player would soon recoil and relieve me of my duty. To my delight, I managed to score wins over David Miller, a promising junior from Grand Prairie, and seasoned vet Dale Haessel from Calgary. Lady Luck seemed to be on my side..until Monday when I was handily outplayed by yet another junior by the name of Jafar Faraji from Lethbridge. Chess is strange game. 

Many people seem to believe that I'm quite capable of becoming of master-level chess player, and I'm almost there, but over the years I've noticed that I often have a self-defeating attitude about playing players better than myself. I see the 22(  )+ and almost immediately grunt disapprovingly. I figure they must be better than me, so why try? But in this event, thanks in part to Anton, I tried on a new mantra-- "You beat me, I won't". 

I won't speak for others, but it seems like becoming a master in chess is more of a psychological hurdle rather than a technical one, and a feat that requires a good degree of competence and confidence in grappling with the more esoteric elements of chess, and life in general. If you're the Dalai Lama of stress management, and the Rambo of confidence, equipped with two AK's of chess knowledge and enough ammo to last 70 years, you're probably well on your way. Don't be a baby like me and shudder at the first wiff of a challenge. "I don't wanna".

Confidence gets the ladies, and the rating points too. 

Rivals.

Mike Zeggelaar- Friend, taxi, enemy, rival, enabler, punching-bag, confidant, maniac--and not always in that order.

Zeggy, as he is affectionately known by around the Edmonton Chess Club, is a by now a pretty well known figure to most ECC members as well as a few others around Alberta. Known mostly for his, what some might call exuberant attitude and perhaps dogmatic adherence to sacrificial play,  he continues to ruffle my chess feathers on occasion. One such example occurred recently as we met in the Edmonton Active Matchplay tournament directed each year by the ever gracious and patient Terry Seehagen.

Every time I'm paired against Zeggelaar, whether it be in a weekend event, match, or otherwise I always get a little nervous, a flood of different emotions, expectations and feelings wash over me and existential thoughts sometimes creep up."Ah..not again" "Oh juice, come at me bro" "Why? Haven't I proved myself yet with a +9 score", they run the gauntlet. When the pairings are posted and he sees the pairing he's seen 58 times before, he'll usually walk over to me and say something like "Ohhh!" in an adventurous and excited tone. My favourite response of late has been to respond with a contemptuous smirk, though I haven't yet mastered the Mutombo finger-wag.

The first two games of the active match began strangely, or so it would seem, but that was just the beginning. I won game 1 with white, and completely capitulated in two game two, playing far too passively, giving him the kind of position he tends to play well. Tied after 2 games and heading into what would soon turn into an insane protracted blitz playoff marathon, I felt my chances would be good. What happened over the following hour and half is by the far the most intense, silly and emotionally racking chess experience of my entire life.

Active(25+10)    (1,0)   - Active(10+2)  (0,1)        - Blitz (5+0)      (0,1) (0,1) (1,0) (0,1) (1,1)

Yes, those scores are real, I didn't make those up. 2 active games, tied. 2 shorter active games, tied. 5 overtime blitz matches later and I finally, somehow, managed to escape the beast in front of me. In each playoff, I had white to begin and played black in game two. Take notice of just how many times I had to win with black in order to keep the match alive, and conversely just how many times he let me slip through his wrestlers grasp. In game two of the of the second blitz playoff, I managed to flag him with just seconds left on my clock with only 1 pawn left on the board, I fell to the floor in amazement and exhaustion after that one. Many cigarettes left the box during this match. In game 2 of the third blitz playoff I was up 2 pawns in an endgame that was clearly won, and what did I do? Give away an entire rook! Wow.. and on it went, topsy-turvy from beginning to end until I finally regained my composure and nerves, shaky hands gone, and ingesting enough nicotine to make Tal weep, I managed to take the last playoff convincingly 2-0. Thank you Zeg for keeping me from a noose, I tried my best to hang myself but you wouldn't let me, you're a true friend.

Rivalries are great,especially when styles and ideologies collide--Kasparov-Karpov, Federer-Nadal, Hockey's Canada-Russia, Palmer-Nicklaus, Ali-Frazier, and in our own small Alberta Chess bubble--Gardner-Huber, Hughey-Yearwood, and recently, and of course most importantly, Sequillion-Zeggelaar.